people are built like cobblestone streets
laid down by the hand of a crew of workmen
who would get tired towards the end of the day
or when it was particularly hot, or when one of them
was obnoxious and another wanted to finish quickly
to get away from him while another threw himself into
the craftsmanship to ignore attempts at vulgar conversation
the kind of streets that have mostly been upturned
and paved over in america, and a drunk, young woman
so exuberant with such longer legs than she would’ve had
had she not been wearing heels might slip on a crack
and break her face because of shoddy workmanship
100 years past. I am not as friendly as i should’ve been
i have barren stretches and rough, cobbled together bricks
a girl could scrape her face on. But I lead from the mausoleum
to a garden on a daily basis, and i have a stone bench
where many workers and elderly couples have stopped for lunch
my favorite are the types who stop to rest their legs alone


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